


Of Course

by Sorenello



Series: Taciturnity [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, mute!Dean, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorenello/pseuds/Sorenello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something about Dean just rubs Castiel the wrong way, until suddenly it doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Course

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taste_of_Suburbia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/gifts).



“You must be Castiel Novak.”

 

“I prefer Cas.” He didn't even try to sound any less bored this time. The polite interest game got old three schools in.

 

The teacher didn't comment on it, frowning at her laptop.“You're a senior? This is a sophomore homeroom, why would they -.”

 

“The room I was assigned to is full, he told me to go one room down.” She – and what kind of teachers don't introduce themselves – hummed in acknowledgment and continued staring at the screen.

 

“Well... I guess we'll keep you until they figure it out. Go ahead and find a seat.” She scooted her chair back, touching his shoulder to get past him and leave the room.

 

Okay, then.

 

He found two seats in the second and third rows closest to him, one directly in the middle of the room, and then settled on a seat in the back row near the wall. The corner was quiet, and he hated feeling eyes on him when he couldn't watch them back. He slid into the seat and opened his book (his dad's, not that he'd ever tell Chuck).

 

Cas didn't think himself magical or believe in any sixth-sense crap, but he did believe in being aware. And right now he was incredibly aware that the sophomore next to him was side-eyeing the hell out of him. It wasn't even flattering with the way his nose was wrinkling. It reminded him of Michael, thousands of things going on behind his eyes and not one of them good for anyone else. Cas slammed his book shut, spooking the kid and watching his ears turn red.

 

“Do I have something on my face or are you just trying to be a dick?” A girl two seats ahead of him snorted and rolled her eyes. The kid seemed to perk up, sitting higher in his desk and at least deigning to look panicked at the accusation. Castiel was distracted by his eyes for just a moment before he saw the disgusted grimace beneath them. Just like Michael's. He huffed and turned back to his book, ignoring that the kid was fidgeting, breathing too loudly in the senior's direction and _still staring_. Just as he was about the snap back, the nameless teacher came to send him two classes in the opposite direction to his homeroom. 

 

 

Castiel made it to September without seeing the kid closer than ten feet away. It astounded him that a sophomore could have enough pride to choke himself with, but somehow Green Eyes managed it. He stared straight ahead when he walked the halls, tall enough to miss most of his classmates' eyes. His nose was forever buried in one book or another, which Cas could admit had its appeal, but this kid never surfaced long enough to interact.

 

Cas surprised himself by going to the school GSA meeting after his last class. He tried to convince himself it was the free pizza promised by a red-head in his Spanish class, but it was difficult to pretend he wasn't willingly and enthusiastically taking part in a human knot when he got there. What surprised him more was the appearance of Mr. Judgment himself in the middle of the tangled arms. Charlie, as she'd introduced herself, used her hand and a freshman named Kevin's to nudge him in the arm.

 

“Dean, step over his arm. No, _his_ ar- Dean, Cas's arm!” 

 

Dean McJudgerton (probably) looked up and locked panicked eyes to Cas's crouched form before dropping his gaze to the senior's arm as he gingerly stepped over it. His head didn't come back up until the knot was untangled eight minutes later, and for no reason apparent to him, it made Castiel seethe. He watched as Dean made his way to Charlie, getting her attention long enough to gesture a thumb toward the door and almost trot his way out. The red-head frowned until he was gone, and Cas frowned until he was home.

 

 

Dean sat his backpack next to the pile of shoes his family kept by the door. “Sammy! You home?”

 

“Yeah!” Dean heard a kitchen chair scrape back and soft footsteps as his younger brother came to stand against the door frame. “Thought you had that meeting?”

 

Dean almost lost his balance trying to shrug and stand on one foot to remove his boot. “Eh. Skipped out. Pizza was gone by the time I got done talking to Bobby in the shop anyway.” Sam narrowed his eyes. “What?”

 

“Charlie told me about that senior.” Dean rolled his eyes and shouldered past the eighth grader into the kitchen.

 

“She shouldn't have. It's nothing.” He opened the freezer and fridge doors. “Pizza okay? Mom's working late tonight.” Sam shrugged and watched Dean take out the box and turn to find the pizza stone.

 

“He doesn't sound like 'nothing.' When Charlie calls a dude dreamy, you know he's a little more than 'nothing.'” Dean pulled a face. 

 

“Dude, no. Just... no.” He pulled the box apart and pre-set the oven. “What am I gonna do, anyway? Talk to him?” Dean scoffed. “So it's nothing. Drop it.” Sam plopped into a chair and kept staring.

 

“You gonna tell mom? You need to see Benny again.” Dean threw the pizza plastic at him.

 

“Do you know what 'drop it' means, bitch?”

 

“New subject, jerk.” He got up to throw the plastic away, so Dean chucked the box at his head. “Get that will ya? And hey, put the pizza in when it beeps.” The sophomore ignored Sam's whined protests as he climbed the stairs. 

 

Being in his room was like achieving nirvana. Not just because of the Nirvana poster, but because this was the only thing that was solely  _his_ . Deep blue walls, memory foam queen bed (secondhand, but Dean wasn't a diva so he was cool with it), band posters and classic vinyl covering as much wall as possible. This was his sanctuary, his karaoke stage, where he could chill after a day of remembering that he wasn't actually normal. Or that he was failing two classes because of his “refusal to participate.” He wishes that were it. 

 

Dean can feel the anxiety building as he lays on his bed. It's an egg of ice in his stomach then a worm in his chest and if he were at school it would be a snake in his throat – he can never tell if it's constricting or just blocking, but it's working either way. Right now it barely makes it out of his stomach before he's up and pacing, stopping in front of the record player Ellen found in the back of the Roadhouse last summer. He pulls Led Zeppelin II off his wall and puts it on. As soon as the opening note plays, Dean can feel the worm retreating back to his stomach – that's fine, he can manage it there – and knows that by the time “Ramble On” starts he'll be calm and spread over his bed. But right now he needs to redirect the energy into one of his rituals.

 

This one doesn't happen every time he comes home from school. Just when he sees those eyes. It's creepy as hell and he feels skeevy, but sometimes he'll sit in the study hall that Cas probably doesn't know they share and he'll stare. Dean has imagined what it would be like if he were a normal guy with a crush on another normal guy. He'd sit at Cas's library table, ask about the book he was buried in ( _Infinite Jest_ this week), they'd hit it off because Dean is actually charming as hell and maybe he could write his number on one of those generic bookmarks for Cas. 

 

And then he thinks about his reality, all input and no output except to a group of people he can literally count on one hand, and the snake starts to writhe in his throat and he's left staring at his own library table in silence. Again. 

 

Dean leaves his haven long enough to get mom's old nursing school laptop from Sam's room (where he was probably using it to actually study, the nerd). He spins in his desk chair while it wakes up and then loads an incognito browser window. Dean clicks the omnibar and for probably the sixth time that week searches:

 

_getting over mutism_

 

There's never anything new. It's the same promoted shit about accepting yourself, and all the environmental causes of selective mutism that are absolutely not relevant - like learning disabilities (his doctor tried to tell his mom that one when he was twelve) or family secrets. Mary had particularly liked that one, laughing that “our dirty laundry had been very well-aired, thank you,” to the therapist before Benny.

 

Today Dean looks again at the wiki-how page he's never clicked on because, really, it's wiki-how. He clicks it anyway.

 

_Step 1: Try being social_

 

Dean blinks. “Are you... no friggin kidding! Hadn't thought about that one, genius.” He closes the window and shuts the laptop. His feet propel him to the edge of the bed, and he flops straight into it with a groan. 

 

 

Sam sits in the high school principal's office. The chairs are almost too small for him, definitely too short at least. The principal is shuffling papers on her desk like she doesn't know how to interact with anyone younger than her freshmen. Her head snaps to the door when the latch clicks and Sam looks over. 

 

Sam would say he definitely knows his brother's type – guy or girl. He's opened the laptop to enough incognito windows to say he has an unnecessarily firm grasp of what Dean finds attractive.

 

Dean is definitely lying about Cas Novak being nothing.

 

With that confirmed, Sam smiles at the senior and gives a somewhat awkward wave while trying not to think about how “dark hair,” “tan skin,” “scruffy face,” “blue eyes,” - all of Dean's interests – have somehow managed to find themselves on one person. 

 

“Mr. Novak, sorry to pull you from study hall.” Castiel shrugs as he takes the other seat and pulls a face at the rude sound the material makes when he shifts. “This is Sam, he's in the middle school this year and has been selected to take high school level standardized testing. Isn't that right, Sam?” 

 

The principal turns a too-big smile to him and he responds with a quiet, “Yes, ma'am.”

 

“Castiel, Sam is looking for a high school student to help with his test preparation. We've heard quite a bit about your academic success, even as a transfer student, and we thought you'd be a nice fit.”

 

Sam barely suppresses a snort.  _No you didn't. I asked for him by name_ . 

 

Castiel nods and turns to Sam. “When are you scheduled? I assume you're taking the ACT?”

 

“I'm scheduled for both in April.” Cas's eyebrows rise but he doesn't look shocked so much as impressed. “Don't feel obligated – I know senior year is rough on some people.”

 

The older boy looks almost offended. “I'm sure I can handle it. When would you like to begin?”

 

“I just got my books yesterday, so whenever you have time.” Castiel smiles at him and nods. “Would it be okay if we met at my house? My mom doesn't like having me out after school.”

 

“That's fine. Shall we start tomorrow?” Sam grins and gives a thumbs-up because this was seriously too easy.

 

 

Mary is thrilled to hear that Sam has found a different senior to help him study his prep books. The one before was a pleasant young woman, but Becky always did rub Mary the wrong way.

 

Dressed in a pair of frog scrubs the boys got her for her birthday, Mary stops to knock on Dean's open door. She smiles at the music she can hear from the headphones before he even moves to take them off.

 

“Hey, Sam gave me his parent-teacher conference papers. Do I need to go to yours?” Mary's not oblivious to the way her son's face falls before he pastes a smile back on.

 

“Do you _want_ to go to mine?”

 

She quirks the corner of her mouth up. “How are you doing? Grades up?” Dean nods, and Mary knows better than to believe it completely. She quirks an eyebrow but doesn't say anything when he puts his headphones back on and lays across the bed again.

 

On her way out she reminds Sam to set the casserole dish into the oven at 350 in an hour so it's ready when Castiel arrives, and on her drive to work she worries about Dean.

 

It takes almost two months of study sessions for Dean to realize that Castiel is the one tutoring Sam. In that time Sam has ground his teeth when Dean manages to spend yet another two hour session in his room listening to music, or down in the basement playing video games with Charlie, or just out driving. Sam decides he likes Cas on his own and not just as a possible addition to Dean. He's stiff, and more awkward than Dean is when he's at home, but he's a good teacher and doesn't make fun of Sam for being a nerd like Dean would. 

 

Mary has just finished baking and handing out chocolate chip cookies to Sam and Cas as a thank you for Castiel's help (this is the third time she's done this, but Cas doesn't seem to mind) when finally Dean meets Sam's tutor. 

 

He comes into the house yelling greetings as usual, but literally chokes when he sees Cas at the table with Sam. The eighth grader frowns and watches Dean with narrowed eyes as he grabs a glass of water and two cookies, completely silent and unable to take his eyes off the ground until he reaches the stairs.

 

“Dean is your brother?” Castiel is watching the space where Dean stood a moment ago like he's puzzled. “He is very... unusual.” And suddenly Sam isn't as much of a fan of Cas as he was five minutes ago.

 

“Yeah, well, it's not like he can help it.” Sam flips pages with a little more force than is strictly necessary until Cas stops him with a hand on his arm.

 

“I didn't mean to sound rude. I just don't understand. You have incredible social maturity for your age, and your mother is kind and personable, but your brother is – he doesn't seem to be nearly as friendly.”

 

Sam ponders that, even though Castiel's wording is awkward and still the wrong side of rude. “Honestly, he doesn't mean to be. Dean is....” His mouth twists in thought. “Dean is difficult. There are like five people he talks to in the whole world and that's 'cause they're family. Even then, it took him years after our dad left. Therapist says it's selective mutism. He doesn't ignore people because he wants to, but sometimes he just... can't.” 

 

Cas is nodding slowly when Sam looks up from the book. “I believe I owe your brother an apology.” This time it's Sam's hand that halts his effort to stand. 

 

“Not even mom goes into Dean's room anymore. Talk to him at school, but his room is his safe place.”

 

Castiel nods and returns to Sam's books.

 

 

Dean is sitting alone at a cafeteria table today. Usually he's in the Impala taking advantage of the open lunch block, but two F's on the mid-term tucked in his backpack revoked his privileges. So dry burger and fries it is. He tries to combat the burger with a mountain of ketchup –  _ketchup is a vegetable, right?_ \- and manages to get a glob on the table and his hand. He's licking the drop off his hand when another tray clatters to the table and  _of course_ it's Castiel freaking Novak because that's exactly who Dean wanted to avoid today. Instead of reacting and probably panicking, Dean just picks up a napkin and focuses on wiping the small puddle of ketchup off the table. 

 

“Sam told me about your mutism.” Now Dean does look at him, because that's a) bullshit and b) hasn't this kid ever heard of small talk? Sheesh. 

 

Dean takes any leftover seconds to consider how he's going to skin Sammy when he gets home before Cas is talking again. “Don't get mad at him. He was just defending you -,” maybe Dean can just lock him in the basement bathroom until Mary goes to clean, “- because I thought you were just being an assbut.” Wait, what?

 

_Assbutt_ ?

 

And he's wondering why Castiel's face when from blank to shocked until he realizes he said that out loud and the snake isn't even in his throat right now. Once he starts thinking about it he can feel the wriggling in his chest but it doesn't feel like the worm and the egg in his stomach is warm instead of icy. And Cas is still staring at him like he's a circus act so he grimaces and grabs his burger. But Cas decides that it's time for him to talk again.

 

“I wanted to apologize for misunderstanding your silence, and to ask if you'd like to start over.” Dean doesn't know how to respond, but he does take a bite of burger and meets Castiel's eyes. If the grin is anything to go by, that's all the agreement Cas needs.

 

 

They don't start out as best friends. Dean doesn't talk, and Castiel has an amazing ability to make even the most relaxed silence a hand-wringing level of awkward. 

 

One time Dean joins Cas and Sam at the kitchen table so he can do homework while they do prep books. Dean lasts ten minutes before he's gathering up his books and running back up the stairs, knocking his backpack against the plant in the hall. Sam's shoulders are tense when he asks Cas what the hell is going on with them. 

 

Castiel does nothing more than shrug and casually remark on his attraction to Dean which makes him feel inadequate in social endeavors. Sam translates this into, “Your brother's hot and I'm nervous.” Which,  _ew_ . 

 

Eventually the awkwardness becomes manageable. Castiel and Dean manage to sit at the table for a whole two hours by the end of October. Dean finds it easy to open his mouth and tease Sam in Cas's presence (Sam snorted soda through his nose the first time Dean did it to Cas). And somehow the oldest boy manages to bring other people into Dean's circle without any explanation. 

 

One day Charlie comes over to play video games in the basement and she dies three times for no good reason before Dean realizes that the notepad sitting by his leg is untouched. That warm egg is still there when he feels like he ought to panic, and the worm is traversing his ribcage but the snake is not making an appearance. 

 

Castiel becomes a regular addition to the boys' lives. He lives three streets over, and when his father is teaching on campus he makes himself at home in the Winchester house (sometimes when absolutely nobody was home and Mary was pleased to find a boy that wasn't hers in a miraculously spotless house). It gets to the point where if Cas isn't there for dinner, Mary will have one or both boys call him until he assures her he's safe and he will be there the next day. 

 

And if on days like that Dean is just as worried as she is, and sits so close to Cas that they're touching the next day... well, Mary can let them be.

 

 

In December, Mary is exchanging the fake plants in the hall for tiny Christmas trees when she finds a mid-term report behind the pot.

 

Dean walks in behind Sam after school the week before winter break starts. Mary looks up from the kitchen table as they pass and calls Dean in. Sam hesitates until Mary smiles and tells him to head up and start on homework. 

 

Dean is a foot away from her before he realizes what is under her hand. He knows Mary's seen the two failed classes (because they didn't get better – Talbot taught them both and he knows he hasn't answered anything for her in class). 

 

For the first time in weeks the ice egg is back in his plummeting stomach, the worm is wrapped tight around his lungs and the snake is constricting – yeah, definitely constricting this time – around his neck and he can't breathe enough and the only noise he can make is a gasp for air.

 

Suddenly he's the one sitting at the table and Mary is standing above him, guiding his head forward between his knees and all he can hear are his stuttering gasps and his mother saying, “Angel, I'm sorry. Nobody's angry, you're okay. Just breathe. That's it, with me....”

 

Her hand on his back is following their breathing - up, in, down, out – until the gasps coming from Dean are not stuttering but are slowing into real breaths. He slowly sits up and back, his head resting on the back of the chair.

 

“Dean? Are you all right?” He nods, eyes falling closed. “No, honey, I need you to tell me.”

 

His next breath is shaky but he rasps out a, “Yeah,” so she knows.

 

“Dean, I need you to keep talking to me, okay?” 

 

“Yeah.” Her hand is at his cheek now.

 

“You know I'm not mad at you?”

 

“Felt like it.” Mary kisses his temple.

 

“I know, and I'm sorry. But I need to know what's going on.”

 

He has to bite back the panic as he admits, “I'm still not talking to Ms.Talbot.”

 

Mary gives him a moment to slow his breathing before asking if he wants an appointment with Benny.

 

He makes an effort to look her in the eyes. “Things are getting better, mom.” She sighs and he interrupts. “No, look, they are. I talk to people at lunch now. More than just Cas. I gave a presentation in English, I can just  _talk_ to about half a dozen people. I'm... working on it. Talbot just... that's something different.” Mary nods until Dean adds, “Besides, we can't afford it.”

 

“Dean. Nothing is more important than you boys. Now, do you _want_ an appointment with Benny?”

 

At his nod, she kisses his forehead and stands. “Thank you. I'll call tomorrow. But you are still totally grounded.” Dean's nose wrinkles but he doesn't argue. “No video games, no joyriding, and your time with Castiel -,” Dean's eyes snap to hers because no way can he deal with losing time with Cas when he's leaving next year, “is limited to homework. You capiche?” 

 

Dean nods. “I capiche.”

 

Mary smiles at him. “Good. Now go, homework. Tell Cas dinner's at six.”

 

Dean stood, dazed, as Mary turned to the fridge to get vegetables out for dinner. He made it to his bed and lay across it for a minute before he finally pulled out his phone.

 

_**Dean** _ :  _ dinner @ 6 _

_**Dean** : u gonna b there _

_**Cas** : Of course.  _

 

Dean huffed a laugh. Because of course it would be him.

 


End file.
